


My Empire of Dirt

by DabMyWetties



Series: halo fifteen [8]
Category: Pentatonix, Superfruit
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Boys In Love, College, HIV/AIDS, Holidays, LGBTQ Themes, Language, M/M, Pride, Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-15
Updated: 2018-06-15
Packaged: 2019-05-23 14:51:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14936378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DabMyWetties/pseuds/DabMyWetties
Summary: “I need to talk to you about something,” is how Mitch decides to break the ice. He’d been able to act convincingly normal after Scott got home from work long enough for them to eat dinner and chat about their days. He can’t keep the facade up much longer.





	My Empire of Dirt

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I’m back! Sorry for dropping off the face of the Earth. If you don’t follow me on Twitter (@/my_wetties): my last semester of college kicked my ass in new & imaginative ways, I graduated with honors, and shortly thereafter my youngest child wound up in the pediatric ICU & was hospitalized for a month with a serious illness. Things have been stressful. Writing has been impossible. 
> 
> Hopefully I’ll be able to get back in the writing groove, because I miss my fic babies and I miss you all!

He’s had better days. 

Granted he’s had significantly  _ worse  _ days, but today kinda sucked. He’d burned his hand frothing milk, dropped a half-dozen espresso cups into a scatter of ceramic shards on the tile floor, and for a glorious three minutes completely forgot how to make a latte. 

A latte. His favorite drink. He  _ forgot  _ how to make it. 

Mitch wants to go home. 

Home. 

The word is soothing.  _ Home. _ His home. He’s still not used to it six days in; sometimes, like now, it hits him that the tiny, sweet little apartment is his and a wash of warmth rushes through him. 

It doesn’t erase the throbbing in his bandaged hand, but suddenly his day is slightly less bad. 

It’s even better when he pulls into the driveway and sees Scott’s car parked off to the side. His heart stutters in his chest a little and Mitch can’t help but smile. With Christmas only days away and three weeks until school’s back in session, Scott’s been picking up as many extra shifts at work as possible this week to sock away some extra cash while he can. Though they’ve fallen into the same bed to sleep each night since he’d moved in, both of their schedules have been erratic and they haven’t had as much time together as they’d gotten used to. 

Now here it is, a little after 8 on a Thursday night, and Mitch, at least, doesn’t have anywhere to be tomorrow. Maybe they can have a movie night before the holiday craziness kicks in. 

Mitch can feel his mood brightening with each crunching step through the snow and by the time he reaches the staircase he bounds up each tread, reaching the top with key at the ready. 

When he opens the door at first he’s not sure what he’s looking at. 

He blinks, tilts his head to the side, and blinks again. 

There are lights  _ everywhere. _ Tiny, twinkling, white lights are everywhere, strung and draped along the crown molding and around doorframes and even hanging across the kitchen cabinets. 

A blast of cold air reminds Mitch he’s standing there with the door wide open and he hastily steps inside and clicks it shut behind him. 

There weren’t lights everywhere when he left earlier. There wasn’t a Christmas tree, either, but there sure is one now, blazing with a billion lights, and it’s covered with so much tinsel and garland that it looks like a glittering fire hazard topped with an off-kilter star. 

In the midst of it all, a quiet snoring and two long legs dangling over the arm of the sofa betray the culprit. Mitch takes a few steps forward to find that Scott is sound asleep on the couch, his giant body contorted awkwardly to kind of fit and yet another string of garland hanging from his fingers and draped over his chest. 

He’s so damn cute when he’s asleep. He’s got to be exhausted, but Scott’s back will be even more of a mess if he sleeps all twisted up like that. Mitch quietly crosses the few remaining steps to the sofa and crouches down near Scott’s head. “Hey sleepy,” he murmurs, reaching out to stroke tousled blonde hair. 

Scott jolts awake, blinking frantically. “Unh?” he mumbles, looking around and then looking down at the silver garland clutched in his hand. “Awww…” 

“Hi honey, I’m home,” Mitch smiles at the groggy confusion, but his smile fades when Scott’s confusion turns to disappointment. 

“Um, surprise?” Scott croaks, his voice still sleep-heavy. “Damn, I wanted everything to be done. Fell asleep before I could finish decorating…” 

Mitch sits back on his heels as Scott struggles to remove himself from the too-small couch and shift into a sitting position. “Finish?” he asks, moving to sit on the couch as well so he can snuggle into Scott’s side. “How did you even start? Where did all this come from?” 

Even half-awake, Scott manages a  _ duh  _ look. “The store?” 

And, okay, that was kind of obvious because where else would he get a Christmas tree, but… “But why did you go to all this trouble when you’ll be at your parents’ for like two weeks and I’ll be working my ass off? We won’t be around to enjoy it.” 

“Ohhh, right, yeah,” Scott nods as if all this is totally normal. “I’m bribing you.” 

He’s what? “You’re what?” 

“Bribing you. New guy walked out in the middle of the shift today and took his friend with him. Bossman offered me time and a half to work over break.” Scott pauses to yawn and rub his eyes. “So either I drive up from my parents’ every day, or I bribe you to let me stay here for a few weeks, maybe? I mean, it’s totally okay if not… if you need some space and all…” 

Mitch blinks up at him. The concept of  _ space  _ hadn’t really entered his mind until now; he hasn’t been away from Scott for more than like six hours in....has it been two months? Yeah, probably about that. He hasn’t had  _ space  _ for a couple months. Scott had planned to stay with his family during most of winter break before returning to his dorm next semester, and…

Oh. Oh, that’s a lot of  _ space. _ That’s weeks of space - and then  _ months  _ of space. Fuck, that is a lot more space than he’s used to and, frankly, the idea of it really kinda sucks. 

“No. No, no, I don’t need space,” Mitch nearly stumbles over the words in his haste to claim Scott for a little longer. “No, stay here. You didn’t have to bribe me. I mean, I love it but you didn’t have to… did you say time and a half?” 

“Mhm,” Scott hums in the affirmative, a lopsided grin on his face. “Couldn’t say no to a shitload of extra money, but I wasn’t looking forward to driving an hour each way for it. Wait, what happened to your hand?” 

“Occupational hazard,” Mitch replies, holding the appendage up as though either of them could possibly see through the gauze it’s wrapped in. “Cappuccino got the best of me, nothing major. What’s the plan for the weekend again? My brain is fucking fried. Today’s the 21st, right?” 

“Is it Thursday? Yeah, it’s the 21st. I’m working tomorrow and Saturday,” Scott stops again to yawn and stretch before wrapping his arms back around Mitch. “Originally was gonna head to my parents’ Saturday night but I think maybe we’ll just go Sunday morning-ish instead.” 

Yes. Excellent. Two days of rest and Scott before having to deal with a family Christmas. “Awesome,” he begins the process of disentangling himself from Scott’s grip. “Lemme shower the espresso stank off me and then wanna do a movie night?” 

Scott resists the disentanglement. “Ahead of you,” he says, planting a kiss on the side of Mitch’s head. “Wine’s in the fridge, movies’re probably buried under the garland somewhere.  _ Totally Fucked Up _ finally came in and I grabbed  _ Go Fish _ since you were talking about it.” 

“Sweet,” Mitch replies, still trying to work his way free. “Can I stand up please? I need a shower.”

“Nope,” Scott replies. “I missed you. You were gone forever.” 

It’s hard to argue with that tired, pouty face even if his logic isn’t entirely sound. “How’re we gonna put a movie on and get the wine if no one’s allowed to get up?” Mitch points out. 

“Ugghh,  _ fine _ ! Shower, I’ll find the movies.” Scott tries for a dramatic scowl but can’t hide the smile. “But hurry up!”

***

It had been a spur of the moment decision to head down to the LGBT center late Saturday morning. Mitch had been looking forward to a quiet couple days at home but restlessness and some nagging anxiety had taken over. He could mope around all day and wait for Scott to get home from work, but figured it may be a better idea to try and find something to take his mind off things. 

Mitch suspected he wouldn’t be the only queer person in the city worried about Christmas bullshit and, sure enough, the center is bustling when he walks in. After nodding at a few familiar faces, he stops at the front desk to check the whiteboard of scheduled events for the day. Being both a Saturday and two days before Christmas, there’s only an HIV support group and an evening AA meeting listed. That’s okay. Today’s probably better suited to something less structured. 

Beyond the front desk and around a corner Mitch finds the lounge area littered with a couple dozen people, old and young, some sprawled on battered couches and armchairs and others taking whatever space on the floor is available. More familiar faces are here - a few from the club, most just regulars at the center that he knows in passing - and someone makes room on a couch for Mitch to sit and join the conversations. 

It’s quickly apparent that misery does love company; the nagging anxiety from earlier fades as Mitch laughs, gossips, and commiserates with the group. The vast majority aren’t going home for Christmas. Adam claims he’s going to stage a grand coming-out during Christmas dinner, right after his father carves the turkey, and, knowing Adam, he really will - though, as several people point out, Adam’s family is fucking  _ blind  _ if they don’t already know. Mitch talks in vague terms about Scott’s family being supportive but how weird the whole situation still is. An hour passes and a few of the younger people break off to head to the game room to shoot pool. Mitch joins them. 

That’s when things go a little sideways. 

One minute he’s walking down the hallway, and the next he’s absentmindedly stepping to the side mid-gossip as the door to one of the meeting rooms opens and people begin to walk out.  

The moment after that Mitch’s smile freezes on his face and his brain tries to catch up with what he’s seeing.  _ Familiar person alert. Wait, do I know -? Is that?? _

And it is, because he sees the recognition, then the widened eyes, the whispered  _ “shit,” _ and by the time his brain completely re-engages everyone else has gone on to the game room and they’re in the otherwise empty resource library. 

What, exactly, is one supposed to say when they bump into their boyfriend’s uncle and his partner coming out of an HIV support group? 

“This, uh, isn’t exactly how we wanted the family to find out,” Greg finally says. 

Mitch has no idea what to say. “But...what....” is all he manages as the implications begin to sink in. He’s known a lot of people over the last three years or so with AIDS, several who lost the battle, but  _ this  _ \- this is different. 

Roy breaks the silence. “I tested positive almost a year ago. We caught it before it progressed to AIDS.” 

Mitch’s heart sinks. He looks to Greg who shakes his head no at the unspoken question. 

“Who knows?” he manages. “Connie? Scott? Anyone?” Mitch already knows the answer, mostly, but he’s at a loss for words and beginning to feel the crushing weight of what will be a terrible secret to keep. Anything else he could’ve asked, any of the questions swirling in his mind, would surely be in no way appropriate. 

Greg shakes his head again. “Some of our friends. We haven’t quite figured out how to break the news beyond that.” He pauses and grimaces. “Shit, this put you in a bad fucking spot, didn’t it?” 

It did, but Mitch won’t admit that. “No, no, I don’t - it’s not -” Okay, it’s really obvious that he’s lying here. “Look, I have no idea what to say or do right now. But I won’t tell a soul.” He has so many  _ questions _ . How? How isn’t Greg pos? What do they…. _ do… _ to keep it that way? 

“You’re gonna be able to keep a secret from Scott?” Roy is grinning at him - how is he  _ smiling  _ at a time like this? - and...fuck. Shit. Scott. Christmas. He’s going to have to sit at Scott’s family’s table for Christmas dinner with Greg and Roy like five feet away knowing this and he’s going to have to pretend like he  _ doesn’t  _ know this and that sounds like a massive panicky clusterfuck waiting to happen. 

Mitch can feel his expression change to one of horror and he can’t do a damn thing about it. 

And Roy laughs, like, a real laugh. After a minute Greg joins him and Mitch can only look at them in bewilderment. “Shit, kid,” Roy manages when he stops giggling. “Calm down. Let me think a minute, okay?” 

***

“I need to talk to you about something,” is how Mitch decides to break the ice. He’d been able to act convincingly normal after Scott got home from work long enough for them to eat dinner and chat about their days. He can’t keep the facade up much longer. 

Scott looks up from the hand mirror he’s using to attempt to apply eyeliner. They’d planned to go to the club tonight and Scott’s been getting more adventurous in how he dresses when they go, but Mitch hadn’t figured out a way to tell him this may wind up being a stay-home night. “That doesn’t sound good,” he says hesitantly. 

Mitch sighs. “It’s really kind of not.” He’s so distracted by the anxiety at what he’s about to say that the swirl of emotions that passes over Scott’s face barely registers. 

“Is something wrong?” Why does Scott’s voice sound so high-pitched? “Did I do something to upset you? Did you change your mind about needing space over break, or…?” 

What in the holy hell is he talking about? “No, what - Scott, what the hell…” Mitch trails off as he mentally replays the last minute of conversation. 

Oh. 

Oh, shit. 

“No! No, it’s not anything like that!” Mitch yelps. “No, it’s just - today...see, when I was -” He sighs. “Fuck.” 

“Okay, it’s just, you’ve been acting weird all night and then you say we need to talk, and -”  Scott looks helplessly at him. 

Ugh, this is not going well - not that it would anyway, really, but this is not how he meant to do any of this. Mitch roughly rubs his hands over his face and heaves a deep sigh. “I don’t even know how to approach this, so I’ll just be blunt. I ran into Greg and Roy at the center today.”  

Scott tilts his head to the side. “Oh, that’s cool. How are they doing?” 

Might as well just drop the bomb. “I need to you try not to freak out, okay? They were there for the HIV support group meeting.” 

The gears are turning, and Mitch watches the process of understanding flash across Scott’s face. First there’s confusion, then slow realization, more confusion, and then a growing look of horror. “Wait,” Scott whispers. “Wait, they.... they’re  _ dying _ ?”

“Roy is positive. Greg is still testing negative.” Mitch gently takes the hand mirror that Scott is clutching and, along with the eyeliner pencil, sets it on the battered end table next to the couch. “And he’s not dying yet. It hasn’t progressed. He’s doing this, uh, what was it called…” Mitch trails off, struggling to remember the term. “...clinical trial! A new kind of experimental medicine that seems to work well. He’s sick, but, y’know, not  _ sick _ . Not dying. Not yet.”

Scott is frozen in place, just blinking rapidly. “But he will die,” he finally says slowly. “And, and, wait, but how...I mean, well I know  _ how  _ you get it but, they’re like an old married couple. Why only Roy…”

“Not everyone is monogamous, Scott,” Mitch says carefully. 

It takes a bit, but he gets there. “Ugghh, no,” Scott groans. “They’re my  _ uncles _ . I don’t wanna think about...oh man, this is fucked up. This sucks. Shit.” He drops his head into his hands. Mitch just leans in closer to him, rests a hand on his back for comfort. They sit in silence for a few minutes, and when Scott finally looks back up his eyes are wet and his liner smudged. “I don’t - I don’t know what to do. What are we supposed to do?” 

“Have a pretty fucking awkward Christmas dinner because we’re the only ones who know,” Mitch says with a wince. “Have you...known anyone pos before? Like, any of your friends, anyone at school?” Scott just shakes his head so Mitch continues. “What we’re supposed to do is keep their secret and to enjoy whatever time we have left with him. He’s apparently doing pretty well so that could mean, like, ten years.” 

They lapse into silence again for a while. “I think I need a drink or three...or ten,” Scott finally says. “We should go out.” 

Yes, they probably should, if just to keep from moping all night. “Fix your makeup,” he replies, heaving himself off the couch. “I’ll drive.”

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> A/N: 1995, the year in which this and previous chapters in the story is set, was at the peak of the US AIDS epidemic. About 50,000 people in America died of AIDS or AIDS-related causes that year - the highest number before or since. The vast majority were men who have sex with men, and in 1995 AIDS/AIDS-related was the number one cause of death for men aged 25-44. It all felt pretty catastrophic. More and more of the LGBTQ+ community were dying each year and there didn’t seem to be an end in sight. 
> 
> When AIDS was first identified by scientists as a “syndrome” of some sort back in 1981, it wasn’t called HIV or AIDS. It was called called GRID - Gay-Related Immune Deficiency. The first clusters of cases appeared in gay men and for some time it was generally believed that this was, as it was colloquially called, a “gay plague.” As such, research into prevention and treatment was poorly funded - or even blocked - and there was no coordinated federal or state response to the epidemic until nearing the end of the 1980s. It wasn’t until high profile cases appeared outside of the gay community, including hemophiliac teenager Ryan White, that policy and public sentiment shifted. Research funds increased dramatically, public education focused on prevention methods, and treatment options became available.
> 
> AIDS decimated the LGBTQ+ community. We now know that HIV was present in New York City, San Francisco, and Los Angeles in the early 1970s, spreading mostly silently through the gay Baby Boomer populations in those cities. By the time symptoms appeared, the disease recognized, and the human immunodeficiency virus behind it all identified, hundreds of thousands of Americans were infected. An estimated 500,000 died by 1998. 84% of those deaths were men. 
> 
> In 1996 effective treatment became available in the form of multiple antiretroviral drugs taken in tandem. Prior to this, a single single drug, AZT, was the only option. It worked at extending lifespan for a short time, but invariably it could not keep HIV infection from progressing to AIDS. That changed in the mid-90s, and with the new types of combination therapy approved for treatment HIV was no longer a death sentence. 
> 
> The number of AIDS-related deaths dropped precipitously in 1996 with the introduction of combination therapy and has continued on a decline since. Today a person diagnosed with HIV can, with proper medication, generally expect a nearly-normal lifespan. Until the mid-1990s, an HIV diagnosis meant certain death within a decade. 
> 
> If you were involved in the LGBTQ+ community during the 1980s/1990s, you knew someone with HIV. You knew several. You knew dozens. You watched more and more of your friends get infected, get sick, and die. You watched most of an entire generation of gay men die. 
> 
> For more information, the contemporaneous book “And the Band Played On” by Randy Shilts is a highly recommended read. 
> 
> Practice safe sex. Use condoms and/or dental dams. Don’t share needles. Get tested.


End file.
